Other sentences and feelings did too, but that one, that one banged my heart like a gong.
The man who loves me.
It was easier when all those longings were locked down, (imagine the series of doors closing in "Get Smart"). Years of being shut down for very good reasons: parents and their illnesses, death, dementia, more death, grieving - those were the years of not wanting a relationship, and being really really fine with it. Really.
That season is over, and friends, waking up to the niggling, stinging pain of wanting is way more agonizing than I recall.
So there's the dating, in which I hope to find the man who loves me. It's akin to working out. I start out with the best intentions, then there's pain (rejection), so I stop, rest, go again. The going again is the kicker.
I feel like a bivalve, opencloseopenclose. (Remember, no pearls before swine.)
Thus it goes.
As a side note, today would have been Mom's 78th birthday. I miss her.
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